


Heavy with Guilt

by reigningqueenofwords



Series: Last Chance [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords
Relationships: dean x reader - Relationship
Series: Last Chance [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413214
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	Heavy with Guilt

Months passed, seasons shifted, and so did Dean. Some days you weren’t sure how to even act because you never knew what mood he was in. He was so all over lately. You’d mentioned it, but it really didn’t accomplish much. It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was a wreck, but he’d always been that way!

He’d come home in a horrible mood after some hunts, and it killed him when you avoided him- but it was better than him being a dick. He’d mentioned it to Sam in passing, but there was nothing that Sam could suggest to make things better.

Come summer, hunts made him even more pissy. His kids were home all day, every day, and he would still barely see them.

One night mid-July, you texted him. He was sitting in a booth in some bar that was no different than the hundreds before it, pissed off that they’d gotten very little done that way, and just wanting this damn hunt to be over.

_Babe? Are you busy? Can I call you?_

**What’s up?**

_I’m stressed out. The kids are wearing me thin. I need some kind of break. Please?_

**Babe, they’re kids. Can’t be that bad. Lol**

_Are you kidding me?! You’ve been gone nearly a month. That’s a month of parenting these two alone. A month of fighting over fucking cars, and who gets the goddamn red plate._

**I think it’s you that needs to chill.**

_…I’m not even sure how to reply to that…_

**Just calm down. You’re getting too worked up. This case should be over soon. Just breathe.**

_Night._

**Oh, come on!**

_No, go. Enjoy fucking around at a bar with Sammy._

**Not fair. I enjoy a beer or two at night. So what? It’s relaxing, and it’s what we do. Not like I’m not stressed over here.**

_Not even close to the same, Dean. You can shut out for the night. I can’t._

Dean shook his head, knowing you were right. It wasn’t the same, but you acting like he wasn’t stressed wasn’t fair on him. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he shot Sam a glare when he could tell his younger brother was about to say something.

* * *

Dean walked in the door two weeks later, looking relaxed, and perfectly happy. He’d finally finished the case, enjoyed one last night of pool with Sam, and made his way home. “There’s my kiddos!” He chuckled. “Mommy said you two were brats while I was gone. That true?” He raised his eyebrows at them.

“No.” Your son shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Maybe Sissy was, but I wasn’t.” He said simply, acting like he was completely innocent.

Your daughter looked at him, offended. “I was not! You were mean!” And, just like that, they were back to fighting.

They took off, back towards her room where they’d been playing earlier and Dean laughed. “See? Kids.” He smiled at you. “Missed you.” Dean told you before kissing your cheek. He’d missed this. Missed you, missed the sounds of their laughter, and missed how complete he felt when he wasn’t focused on the supernatural, or death. 

* * *

Every time he was gone, you texted him how bad they would get. He never saw them that bad when they were home. They had their moments, but so did all kids. Finally, he’d suggested that maybe you should look into therapy, or medication. Dean thought that maybe it would make life better for you, and he never would have held it against you. It had backfired horribly.

You never seemed to want him around anymore, always seeming to be miserable. He couldn’t get you to open up, either. He hated it. And then he would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he could do to help. He couldn’t quit hunting, as Sam needed him. He was between a rock and a hard place.

On top of lying awake, when he did sleep, you having nightmares would jerk him awake, sending him into a panic. He’d do everything he could to soothe you, but he wasn’t a miracle worker.

By the time that he drove away for a hunt, he was honestly looking forward to having his own bed. One night’s sleep would be welcomed, and was needed. He was running on coffee at this point.

* * *

It was a short hunt, and the kids were still with Sam when he returned. They had planned to let them stay there just a few days, but it had stretched into a week. Sam was enjoying himself, and got a small taste of fatherhood caring for them.

Dean hoped to have a nice dinner together, and was stopping to get burgers on his way home. However, the type of burgers you liked slipped his mind. That led to him being forced to call Sam, as you weren’t answering. “Dean?” He furrowed his brows, wondering why Dean was calling him.

“You heard from Y/N? I had to run to the next town over for something for dinner, and she’s not answering.” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“She probably turned her phone off. She was pretty stressed when she dropped the kids off.” Sam told him, laughing when they started pretending to fly. “I’m sure she wanted a nap, or just some peace.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll just pick one of these.”

“What are you trying to pick?”

“I can’t remember if she liked the angus burgers better, or the other ones.” He muttered.

Sam stayed silent for a moment. “Angus, Dean. She likes the angus. Same with hot dogs.” How Dean could have been with you for so long, and not remember something so simple was beyond him. “I gotta go. They found the sharpies…. No! Do not draw a mustache on your sister!” Sam called out, rushing to where the kids were.

Hearing a click, Dean sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

* * *

It was day four of the kids staying with Sam, and with each passing moment, you felt worse and worse. Every little thing played through your mind. Each time you’d done something wrong, each time you’d said the wrong thing, each time you got mad at the kids, and so much more.

Your phone kept ringing on your nightstand, but you didn’t even bother to look to see who it was. Hearing that someone had left you a voicemail didn’t even register. Not really, anyway.

Sitting up, you looked around your room and felt so out of place. Not just in this room, but in your life. An ache in your chest brought tears to your eyes, causing you to snap them shut. The second you made your choice, you were off the bed, and putting it into action.

* * *

Dean decided to wake you up before starting dinner, so you weren’t groggy trying to put toppings on your burger or something. He grabbed you a bottle of water and went back to your room. When he saw that you hadn’t moved, he found that odd. You moved a lot in your sleep, which usually resulted in the blankets being all over.

“Babe?” He sighed, moving closer. Seeing a piece of paper on your nightstand, he froze. From where he was, he could see your handwriting. “Fuck. No….” He rushed to your side, fearing the worst. His hand cupped your cheek, patting it, even though he knew it was pointless.

He broke, pulling you to his chest. Your arms remained at your sides, not moving. All he wanted was for them to wrap around him and hold him tight like they used to.

Sam had his feet up on the coffee table as him and the kids ate their pizza and watched a movie. They were sitting on the floor, paying more attention to the movie than their food, but he didn’t mind. They could snack on it later. Hearing Dean’s ringtone again, he sighed. Wiping his hands, he picked up the phone. “Dude, you should know what the hell she likes to eat by now.” He snapped.

“Sammy, she’s dead.” Dean broke, and Sam’s stomach dropped.

“Wh-what?” He breathed, trying to keep his face composed.

Dean was pacing your shared room, in more pain than he could have ever imagined feeling. “I came home, went to check on her, but I t-thought she was sleeping.” He choked out. “So, I prepped dinner. I wanted to wake her up before I started it, and I found her. She committed suicide.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as he let that sink in for a minute. “I’ll keep the kids here as long as you need.” He said softly. “We’ll talk more about this after they’re in bed.” Sam told him, knowing that as soon as the kids were in bed he’d break.

His sister in law was dead, his brother was in severe pain, and now they had two young children to tell that their mommy was gone.


End file.
